


Consuming You

by MrEntwine



Category: Luther (TV)
Genre: F/M, Murder, Psychopaths In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3288062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrEntwine/pseuds/MrEntwine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief look at Alice Morgan's thoughts just before she murders Henry Madsen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consuming You

**Author's Note:**

> Very short little piece to get me back into the mood for writing. Please let me know what you think ^_^

Alice Morgan's mismatched eyes gazed down at Henry Madsen somewhere between mirth and hatred. The paedophile slept soundly. That was good. That would make the next part easier. She took an even step toward him, wishing she had time to tell him every feeling in her heart. Nothing like unburdening to the dead. Or well, Henry Madsen was close enough. She could've told him how once upon a time her eyes would've marked her as a witch, to be cast out of society. Would that have frightened a man like Henry Madsen? Could anything? Could John?

Of course, her heterochromia was a disguise. There was nothing to be afraid of, she wasn't really a witch. She wasn't half the monster Henry Madsen was. Idle threats to her life aside, even John had never hurt her, and he'd left Henry Madsen in a coma. Well, John was no angel, but how could he protest removing pure evil like Madsen from the world?

Not that she was going to kill him because of some debt she owed the world, or because of the evil he had unleashed on it. She'd long ago stopped trying to feel shame over the fact that other people's fates mattered to her less than nothing. She'd made peace with that. The dead children that weighed on John and on Henry Madsen might as well be ants for all the thought Alice gave them. It was his future sins that concerned her today.

She wondered, staring at Henry, if there was anything left of the man who still haunted John in this feeble cripple's body. The coma left the man capable of only saying a single word, but comas receded in waves. Would he regain enough strength to point the finger at the man who had left him lying in this hospital bed for months?

She put a gentle hand on his face. This was the man that filled John Luther's nightmares, but he was just a man, just like any other. No more filthy than the rest, and handsome enough in his own way. John couldn't bear to touch him. He'd never touched Henry Madsen. He'd let him fall rather than allow flesh to press against flesh.

But he'd touched her. She didn't know why, but that contact had stayed with her. For some reason she couldn't stop thinking about it. John had told her she didn't understand love, but if she didn't, then what else could this feeling be? What could she call it?

She was down here, in the muck and filth, with Henry Madsen's half-corpse. A thing that could only say one word. But she'd go down there for him, because he refused to. And that was her favorite thing about John Luther.

She pinched his nose. She covered his mouth. If there was anything left of Henry Madsen, he awoke in fear and pain as he felt the life leave him. Perhaps if she'd given him the chance, he would've said his one word, his mantra and prayer: Luther.

She didn't give him the chance.

“Don't say his name.”

She smiled as she watched him die.


End file.
